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I'm so glad, I'm so glad...to be a music fan: Skip James, The Cream and "Passing it On"
I've never been hit by lighting, but today, out of nowhere, I felt a jolt of 'lectricty run all down my arm.
Sometimes you think you know something. Sometimes you think you've got a handle on things. Sometimes you think you've got it all worked out. You think you do...and then something happens...something that makes you start the fuck over.
I was walking to The Tube this morning to go to work. I had my iPod shuffling through one of my fave playlist that I made: Blues with a Feelin'. It's a bow-down list of front-row tunes from my fave musics: blues, country (Waylon & Willie country, not today's bullshit country) and good ol' southern Stax and Shoals R&B and soul...and a few other bits and pieces thrown in for good measure.
The something that happened today was something that never happened before. Today teacher and pupil went toe to toe courtesy of the all mighty shuffle. One of the bits and pieces in this playlist is "I'm so glad", by Cream. I am not a big Cream fan, but I like this song...mostly because its a Skip James tune. Skip James did the original version as far back as 1931. Cream released their version in 1966.
I listened to the Cream version. I like the "rolling" feel of the track. The guitar travels along as Jack Bruce bellows out a thick, leathery vocal. At about 1:25 in the song, the EC Express leaves the station and roars on down the tracks. Not bad...not great.
At this point I walked through the turnstile and made my way to the Piccadilly line to catch my train to work. On my way down the escalator, Skip James came on to play his (the) version of "I'm So Glad".
I guess I wasn't paying attention, because I didn't realise that the same song was playing; however, it wasn't the same. This version was in black and white. There were hisses and pops and snaps and crackles...but it had that familiar rolling guitar riff in it. "Oh, shit...that's Skip James". I clicked nine o'clock on the iPod's wheel and started 'er over. I had heard this before, but hearing James' original juxtaposed with Cream's version was what caused the jolt. I'm no purist, but I couldn't get over how thin and frail the Cream version sounded next to James.
Cream, Clapton in particular, tried so hard on their version. They could never have matched the believability of James' original and I'm sure they knew it. It must have been so frustrating to have been the caliber of musician as those guys were and to know that they were never going to be as good as Skip James...or anyone else of that ilk and era. The thought of knowing that after hearing James and Johnson and Honeyboy and House, everything you did, no matter how grandiose and inflammatory you may play it, you were never going to be able to touch the truth in that old black man's burden.
The important thing is that they listened. They listened to what James did and how he did it and they did their best to deliver the goods. They were influenced.
As a music fan, you know that influence is the lifeblood of "passing it on". It is how a song from a black and white 1931 finds it way from the juke joints of Mississippi to London's Royal Albert Hall in the technicolor 1960's. If you break the joy of being a music fan into three parts, a third of it is listening to music, a third of it is learning about music and a third of it is about sharing the music and those learnings with other music fans. This is what Cream did, the Stones did, the Grateful Dead did, what early Fleetwood Mac did, what Gram Parsons did...what Bob Dylan is still doing on each of his last four brilliant studio albums.
Shit, this is why I am a fan. I can't play a lick, but I can sure appreciate one. I love the listening, the learning and the lending of my knowledge accumulated through a passion for music. After today, I decided that this weekend I am going to go back and listen to a few paired up classic then and now's and see how the wannabe's learned from the old timer's.
I'll be sure to share what I find out...
p.s. if you have any suggestions of song pairings, serve 'e, up in the comments. Cheers.
Sittin' in a bar, drinkin' a jar in London (with Charley Patton, no less)...
- Beer: Abott Ale
- Bar: The Zetland Arms, South Kensington
- Book: "Delta Blues" by Ted Gioia
This is an EXCELLENT book if you are a fan of prewar blues. I am learning so much. Ted's writing is a rhythmic and knowing prose. I feel like there is dirt under my feet and train whistles are blowing in the distance when I am reading this. I just bought this Charley Patton record (seen in the photo). It is my beer, bar, book talisman for this session.
(As I write this "Green Onions" by Booker T. & The Memphis Group just came on the radio. Great music knows no geographical boundaries. Shit, I love those guys. I saw Booker T, Steve "Never Played a Bum Note In His LIfe" Cropper and Duck Dunn in Sydney last year. Al Jackson RIP).
The Lure Of Going Around is strong in Honeyboy Edwards: A front-row review from when he brought the Mississippi Delta to London last weekend.
(Me & Honeyboy)
Either prior to or while reading my Honeyboy Edwards experience, you may want to play this bit of audio from the show. I was close enough (front row) to capture near the last 25 minutes on my iPhone. If you want to wait until after, fine. I'm sure you will be playing it more than once.
Oh yeah...those two instances where you jerk your head upwards and say in amazement..."HOT DAMN"!...after you hear what you hear, are at 7:35 and 15:23 in the recording. Enjoy.
(download)
I am standing four feet from David "Honeyboy" Edwards and my needle is in the red. I am rooted hard where I stand, up against the front of the stage...but I feel like vapour. I feel like I am a massive exhale exhorted out in to the atmosphere, swirling around to make sure everyone understands the significance of what is about to happen next.
At any moment, the Blues is about to emerge from a hole in wall and walk right up on the stage, sit a spell and play awhile. Yes, The Blues. The Blues will be here tonight. Not in black and white; not in folk or lore; not in contemporary mimicry. The Blues will be here, live and in the flesh, and it is going to show us just how blue you can get.
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I am in a small London bar cum music venue cum makeshift Mississippi-backroad juke joint. The stage is a rag-tag collection of folding chairs, assorted bits of rug, wires, microphone, amps and opened guitar cases. The stage is flooded in a velvety red glow from the dim white lights bouncing off the old ragged red curtain that is draped behind on the wall.
The house is three-quarters full and the opening act has just finished his set. People are rushing around to refresh their drinks. Some are grabbing two or three beers at a time to last them for the entire next set. Some are knocking back ceremonial shots of whiskey to prep themselves for what they are about to experience. For some, moving nary an inch from where they stand is not an option.
For these people...the non-movers...us...nothing could be more important right now than the anticipation of what is about to happen. One of the last two, and the only touring, living legends of the Delta Blues is about to play. David "Honeyboy" Edwards is 94 years old. He has played the blues from the Mississippi's Delta on up to Chicago and all the broken down juke joints in between. The list of the blues legends he has played with can drop jaws: Tommy Johnson, Son House, Charley Patton, Robert Johnson, Sonny Boy Williamson, Lightnin' Hopkins...utterly staggering. He has played with them all at one point and tonight he channels them for us.
Ninety-four years old. This ain't no oldies act. This man knows what he is doing. He knows who he is and what he represents. He knows why he is here and what he must do. Ninety-four. If it is true that age brings wisdom, then Honeyboy Edwards must be one of the smartest motherfuckers on the planet.
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If you have been reading along on this blog you know I am a fan of the blues...to say the least. This gig was a bow-down event for me. One week after I move to London I visited Rough Trade records in Notting Hill. I am in the store and I see a concert bill for a Honeyboy Edwards show. There are a lot of old posters and playbills on the wall in Rough Trade and I assumed this one was an oldie and goodie. Not so.
I was in disbelief and disoriented at the thought of actually being able to attend this gig. I rushed home to get tickets online. I couldn't miss this show for anything. I had to be a part of this. I had to be one in the crowd, clapping for and cajoling Honeyboy to play those country blues.
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We got to the gig early I cemented myself in the front row to what would be Honeyboy's left. The first act, Les Copeland, proclaimed Honeyboy to be his hero. He played his set and played in a respectful manner that greased the skids for Honeyboy. I'm sure Les could have played with a bit more glint and flash; his subdued set was more than enough to let us know he has chops.
Near the end of Les' set, Michael Frank came out to play an accompanying blues harmonica. Michael Frank is Honeboy's manager. he is also an eccentric, a music producer and owner of Earwig Music. Honeyboy and Les are Earwig artists. Michael played one song and then went out back to get Honeyboy.
Oh shit: Here come The Blues. Steady, Judd...steady.
Honeyboy came out dressed in trademark shirt, vest and flat-rimmed "Chicago" baseball cap. Ninety-four years old. I wasn't sure what to expect. I anticipated feeling sympathy for the old buck. Surely the show was going to be more a figment of the blues than a fertile reading of it. Oh, how wrong I was.
Honeyboy Edwards played like a man possessed. Not possessed by the devil nor any other fabled figure...but with the spirit of youth. I can only surmise that it is the passion he has for what he is doing and what he represents that allows him to play with such vigour and showmanship as he did last Friday night.
He played smooth and he played dirty and he did each with a knowing confidence. He was engaged with his music and engaged the audience with kicks and gestures that were both a play to crowd and a natural reaction. He played for 1hr and 45min without a break. He played lead guitar (with Les playing rhythm far in the background), he played slide guitar and he played dobro. He played it all with a gusto and sincerity that only a man who has played as long as he has, could.
I was completely blown away by his slide work...especially when he brought the dobro out. It was a slashing and stinging sound that called for attention. In the audio clip I have provided for you, be sure to have your ears open for the 15:23 mark. Honey tears of a slide riff that give you the chicken skin (that is me with my knee-jerk "Whhooaa!" when the Honey takes off).
Yes, there were some bum notes, but no one cared. Honeyboy Edwards was serving some authentic Delta Blues and the crowd was lapping it up (just listen to us!).
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I didn't move the whole night...literally transfixed with a huge, shit eating grin plastered on my face. Honey was looking at me a few times during the show. I was hopeful that my expression was egging him on, letting him know that he was nailing it and to keep stoking it. He must have thought I was some crazed lunatic. I could stop grinning.
Why should I have? This was the living Blues. A seminal figure who has toted the Blues Legacy around with him for many a year. I am so thankful for the opportunity to see Honeyboy live. He has a presence and I was in it. He is Honeyboy Edwards, but he is also the Mississippi Delta, West Side Chicago, South Side Chicago, Junior Wells, B.B. King, Muddy Waters, Howlin' Wolf, The Allman Brothers, Stevie Ray and Keith Richards and so many, many more.
He knows his past and he knows his future is a day-by-day uncertainty. Friday night he played like neither mattered. He was in the moment playing his blues, the real Delta Blues, for the people...as he has for the last ninety-four years.
Thanks, Honeyboy.
Honeyboy's website
Earwig Music's website
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Seeing as I was so close I was able to capture some sights and sounds of the show. In addition to the audio above, I have some snaps and some short clips of video (no disrespect to Honeyboy and his management intended...I just want to share).
The Goods
Honeyboy Gig Photos: Here are some snaps from the Honeyboy show. I only had my iPhone 3GS with me, so the pictures are not of the highest quality:
A short video clip of Honeyboy taking the stage and warming up:
Two quick clips of Honeyboy: Honeyboy giving his manager the business & a short clip of Honeyboy in action.
A heavy load to bear: David "Honeyboy" Edwards totes the Delta Blues Legacy to London and I am going to see him
I was in a bar reading the book, "Delta Blues" by Ted Gioia. I had just finished a few pages on David "Honeyboy" Edwards. Honeyboy, 94 years old, is one of two remaining living blues legends that came from the vaunted Mississippi Delta (the 96 year old Pine Top Perkins being the other). Apparently, Honeyboy was with Robert Johnson the night Johnson was poisoned.
When I finished reading this section I grabbed my trusty iPhone and looked up to see if Honeyboy still walked among us. What I found out next was nothing short of an incredible coincidence. I almost shit myself when I saw that not only is Honeyboy still alive, he is still playing gigs and is going to be playing London on the 25th September.
Hot Damn! This will be a bow-down event of the highest order.
I punched up the ticket provider for the gig and scored two seats to see Honeyboy play his Delta Blues. Yes, Honey is 94, but this music is old-timey and it is about lineage and lifelines back to the Delta...not, lighting fast playing.
Here are a few Honeyboy classics:
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This gig is part of a small blues festival called, "Not the Same Old Blues Crap". Hey...I LOVE the same old blues crap. Nonetheless, the line-ups are good and I plan on seeing a few other acts. I haven't seen any of these, have you...?
- T-Model Ford (hard scrabble bluesman from the Mississippi Hill Country and Fat Possum label artist)
- Bob Log III (WTF is this all about)
- Agnostic Mountain Gospel Choir
- The Jim Jones Review
A recent gig:
Random interview with Honeyboy at a blues fest:
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If you ever get lonely, you just go to the record store and visit all your friends...
The first record I ever owned as 45 called, "The Lion Sleeps Tonight"
by the Tokens. I was a young kid of about seven or eight years old and I played that record until the needle wore through its
grooves. It was the sweeping falsettos that hooked me. But what I
loved even more was the loping, rhythmic, tribal beat that drove the
song. I feel strongly that my love of the blues was spawned from
repeated listenings of this infamous
song. One of the other records of my formative-music fan years that
used to get a lot of spins was the Best of the Monkees. "Last Train to
Clarksville" and "Papa Gene's Blues" were faves.
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________Just yesterday I was at Mojo. I went to see Booker T and the Drive-By Truckers perform last night and needed to get the "feel" going before the gig. Nev and I talked about what we were doing for RSD. There is going to be a two-piece band and a book signing by a local artist. People are going to start coming by around 3:00pm. Nev is going to have some vinyl specials going. I already put three aside to get when I go in: Derek & the Dominoes, "Layla", The Allmans, "Live at the Fillmore" and Otis Redding's, "Otis Blue". My wife gave me a turntable for Christmas and I need to get some vinly and give it a spin. My music collection is 1,300+ albums strong (98% fat free). I can't replace it all, but I am going to pick out some choice sets worthy of the black stuff. Have a look at the collection if you like: Judd's Juke Joint. If you want to see Mojo in person, come on down next Saturday. It is sure to be a bow-down event. Oh yeah, bring a rack of beer if you like...Cooper's Red.p.s. That 45 I was talking about? I still have it. My mom framed it for me and gave it to me as a gift a couple years ago. Records don't have to spun on a turn table to tell great stories.
- Posted from Sydney, Australia
